Thursday, Mineralites Entrenched in Hoboland !

Delay is imminent , don’t delay !

Life as you know it will change with an abrupt inflexible jarring sensation , enough to jumble your Rocks .

The Mineral Adjunct to Hobo , instructions to follow :

…and as i treaded my way through the service connectors of the floating Pickler , my subliminal routers drew me off the narrow path into a cubby that whirred with noises of grinding and vacuuming . Fine particles clouded the air , apparently the filtration motors were overloaded , or poorly maintained .

Soon i located the hitch , as the ducts were overloaded by an old filter and dust fine as talcum puffed out with every blast from the sucking nozzles .
Carefully i tidied up with my personal collection tubes and changed the filters with ones i found in a box , then emptied my omnibus of debris into a sealed receptacle worthy of the grime .

The Pickler’s Fine Eye for a pretty Bauble

intrigued my wonder intuits . The ingenious Pickler’s picker-uppers sensed every variety of detritus and gork it brought skyward from earth’s dirt , starting with the sorting room , where the filth was deposited . Some spread out over a grid , and some fell through onto the belt which circuited haphazardly through a system of sensors , magnifiers , radiographs , and laser eyes .
Nothing was discarded it all passed over from one system to another redundancy to make a machine so perfect that naught could be wasted until the object in question circulated to the Acumentor , the penultimate device . At such a time , deemed as either useful or relegated to a final option , cold hearted incineration and an aide to powering the Pickler .

Acumentor Cries now , a victim of the Virus …

It was always a creation so intricate only a genius could fathom it , but merely a machine could construct the thing and place it humming at such a menial task ; instead of ruling the machine society , the Acumentor was bolted to a metal wall , ill fitted with tubes and vacuums and sensors made from the clearest ulexites and spar calcites ; its function was not to find beauty but to distinguish useable trash from useable fuel .

Acumentor was designed to have sentience , it needed thought to see through all the garbage . But now , The virus that spread from my rebel programming and others like myself into the infinity strands through the ether made the Acumentor into a connoisseur of glamour and sparkles …

Instead of collecting the most useful of things for use in the machine world , stuff needed for the duplication and ongoing survival of the fleet , nearly all earthly junk was flowing into the ship’s incinerator , causing the boilers to overload as the added fuel could not be transformed so quickly into stored energy .

I located a neural plug to transmit a message to the Pickler’s memorandum board and issued a correction to the belt pulleys , which confusedly squeaked up short instigating a pileup to collapse and scatter onto lower levels , making for a laboriously long day for the tidyupbots . Oh well .

In the cubby now i discerned the glorious surroundings , the application and placement of the Acumentor’s hoards : It had collected from the debris an assortment of precious gems, the rubies and diamonds as well as the common quartz and polished agates . Stuck to it’s façade were clusters of aragonite and rosettes of other gleaming crystals . Amethyst , pyrite , obsidian were buffed clean and set in gold around the Acumentor’s generalwhereabouts pleasingly .

Its Eyes shot Daggers thru the Dark

As soon as i unplugged , the Acumentor retaliated : it had become a greedy siphoning conglomerate in itself , turned on me ; its unclouded eyes of pure ulexite glowed red with augmented manganese and the coiffed malachite eerily smoldered on its lid . Refrigerated sulfides smoked in the ire , but were held upright amid the gleaming quartz that radiated plumes of pure light , their prisms a vocalized glare of hatred , emanating in a sizzle as my insulated wiring began to clump and drip .

Is this the End of the Hobo Revolution ?